"The mental simulation is working. She will be ready in the next couple of hours." Rassilon smiled as he watched the brain scan on the screen changed from a pale yellow to a neon blue. As he stared at the screen though, his mind wandered back to a time when he had his little girl, his princess. She used to be so perfect, her white hair glistened in the sun and her gold eyes were so full of passion and innocence. "Sir, should I prepare her for a through cleansing?"
" No. We need to make sure he doesn't see a change in her. Keep it simple and soon he will be ours." And with that he left the room.
Sherlock wandered through his opera house making sure that his kingdom was safe; a solitary guard against the dark. " Oh, Christine?" He had reached her mirror and staring out into the gloom of the room he felt his hearts contract painfully in fear. She wasn't in the room at all. As Sherlock frantically tried to figure out what happened he heard the creak of a floorboard outside her door and he knew that wasn't Christine's step to come in. Sherlock never moved so fast in his life; his feet made no sound as he ran through the tunnels. Coming out from underneath the Athena statue at the grand staircase, he quietly shut it and went to run up the stairs when he came face to face with a shadowy figure standing at the top of the stairs. Sherlock blinked, his body frozen on the spot.
" Who are you?" He managed to whisper and a sharp laugh echoed over the moonlit marble. " Oh, you should know who I am." The voice made Sherlock's nerves crawl
" I don't believe we have met." Sherlock stated and the figure laughed again. " You know me Erik." The figure's voice changed to mimic Christine and Sherlock felt dull anger spread throughout his body. " Come in to the moonlight. I want to see your face." Sherlock growled and the figure obeyed with a graceful step towards the lip of the stairs. As the silver light shone upon the man Sherlock gasped audibly and he saw the figure smile.
" Who are you?"
" I think you know Sherlock. I am you; or at least the part you that you won't let your precious Christine see." The man was now at the bottom of the stairs and Sherlock saw the black half mask on his face, but unlike Sherlock he wore on the left side not on the right.
" How can you be me?"
" I am the part that you will never show her the part that you will always have deep inside, the part…" Sherlock fist curled and he went to knock the man out but instead he was met not with flesh, but with thin air.
" You think that you can hurt me? You hurt me; you hurt yourself in the process. Maybe if you show me to your Christine…"
" I will never show you to her. She doesn't need you any more than I need you." Sherlock snarled and the figure laughed. " So what do I call you?"
" Well, if you are the Phantom of the Opera; then you can call me the Opera Ghost." Sherlock laughed. " You think your me don't you?" The man smiled and shrugged his shoulders. " No, I don't think I am you, I am you. Just wait and see." And with that he faded. Sherlock shook his head trying to clear it when a sharp pain exploded from underneath his ribs on his right side. Turning, he went to see what happened, he felt himself pulled down and the sharp blade of knife being pressed to his neck.
" Maybe I should take your place. It would be fitting wouldn't it? Me, becoming you, allowing the world to see who the real Phantom of the Opera is." Sherlock elbowed the man in the stomach and he felt it connect to flesh. He felt the blade slide from his neck and twisting nearly collapsed from the pain. Grabbing his side, Sherlock felt his blood, hot and slimy, meld to his hand. Pulling his hand free, he reached fro his sword, only to discover it was gone.
" Looking for something?" The Ghost had it in his hand and Sherlock felt rage burn through him and with a roar leaped for the man. The world seemed to slow as Sherlock moved, he could see fear in the man's eyes as he turned and ran, leaving Sherlock to crash in a painful heap on the floor. He sat up groaning as he placed his hand back on his wound.
" Fine, you can keep the damn sword. I don't care." He hissed and crawled back into the tunnels after he cleaned his blood from the marble. Leaning against the wall, Sherlock felt himself beginning to feel sleepy and he went to make his way to his home, when a soft murmur of words caught his attention.
" I will always be there Sherlock. Always." And Sherlock fell to his knees in the passageway as the darkness closed around him like Death's ebony cloak.
New character and Christine is being brainwashed. R&R please. Much appreciated. =)